


Long Day

by SeverusMinerva



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Sad Reader, Small Angst Big Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 09:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24468373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverusMinerva/pseuds/SeverusMinerva
Summary: The Doctor's spouse has had a really long day and comes home to the Tardis. The Doctor is (surprisingly) good at dealing with this.
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Reader, Twelfth Doctor/You
Kudos: 46





	Long Day

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on tumblr. Let me know if you want more!

You stepped into the TARDIS, and all the tension that you had been holding throughout the entire day seemed to melt away, leaving you exhausted and somewhat empty it its absence. The TARDIS hummed in sympathy, and your lips quirked upwards in something that could only be described as an attempt at a smile. Normally you would’ve stayed to at least say hello, but not today. You ventured further into the one place that you had ever truly thought of as your home, wondering where its main occupant was.

You didn’t have to wonder for long, the faint sound of his electric guitar leading you up the stairs and deeper into the machine. Despite how big the TARDIS was, you weren’t worried about getting lost—you knew that she would never trick you, and that was enough. The music slowly got louder, and you were able to identify it as a song he had played a few times before. It was a slow, somber number, one that he had once told you was written for a girl he had forgotten a long time ago.

Your quest led you to the bedroom that you shared with the Doctor. You wanted to stand outside the door for a moment and just listen to your husband play, but it seemed that he was, once again, ahead of you. He stopped playing the moment you stopped walking. You sighed, knowing what was coming next. Sure enough, the sound of footsteps followed, and the door opened, revealing the Doctor and his guitar. He stood there, staring at you and you stared back, not in the mood for small talk. He sighed.

“You look awful.” He stated, no room for disagreement. Not that you would’ve disagreed; he was probably right. You certainly did feel awful enough, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to hear it said so bluntly.

“Thanks, love.” He didn’t respond, instead, he leaned his guitar against the wall and reached out with his other hand to pull you through the door into the bedroom. He shut the door behind you, dropping your hand and striding over to the dresser.

“Sit on the bed.” He ordered, not looking back at you. On any other day, you would’ve given him shit for this, but today was not any other day and you were just so, _incredibly_ tired. You sat down obediently, watching him tinker with something that you couldn’t see. You heard the sonic go off and then soft, soothing music filled the room. He spun around, clearly more than pleased with himself. When you could barely twist your mouth in response, his grin dropped, and you could see the moment that he realized exactly how bad you were feeling. He came over slowly and knelt in front of you, keeping eye contact. He slowly reached for your hands, giving you plenty of time to tell him that you didn’t want to be touched, before taking them gently in his much larger ones.

“Do you wanna talk about it, Darlin’?” He asked, giving your hands a little squeeze. You hesitated. Did you want to talk about it? You opened your mouth, but closed it just as quickly, shaking your head furiously. Just the thought of explaining what had happened earlier made tears well in your eyes. It wasn’t that you were ashamed to cry in front of your own husband, (the both of you had cried multiple times in front of the other, that wasn’t really an issue anymore), it was more that you knew that you just didn’t have the energy to deal with that at the moment. The Doctor understood immediately.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to, I just wanted to be sure.” He squeezed again and let go. His hands went to your jacket, tugging at the sleeves like he wanted to take it off. Panic filled your mind.

“No! Doctor, I don’t want—”

“Neither do I, you daft person.” He interrupted, frowning. “Honestly, I’m not an animal. Obviously, you’re exhausted. I’m just helping you get ready for bed.”

You blushed, feeling embarrassed that you had leapt to that conclusion so quickly. The Doctor knew you much better than that, you knew that. You felt guilty that you had even thought that of him, and you knew that it showed on your face because he gave a heavy, frustrated sigh. He crooked a finger under your chin so you were forced to look up at him.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” He assured you, looking deep into your eyes. “I know.” He placed a chaste kiss to your lips and went back to tugging off your jacket. When it was gone, he bent down and started to unlace your boots, much to your chagrin.

“Stop fighting me! Do you really think you could’ve undone all these bloody buckles and strings and bows and whatnot? You’re welcome to try, sweetheart, but I think it’d be faster if you just let me do it, yeah?” You acquiesced, allowing him to pull off your shoes and manhandle you into bed. When the both of you are finally settled, he’s laying on his back and you’re laying half atop him and half belly-down on the bed. Your head is resting so that your ear covers one of his hearts, and his hand is entwined with your hand on top of his over one. His other arm holds you close, and you can feel his fingers playing idly in your hair. It’s well and truly cuddling, a rare treat indeed. That he’d volunteered himself for it, and actually seemed to be _enjoying_ it without a half-hour of token protests first was a wonder in and of itself.

“Thank you,” you whispered, listening to his hearts beat. He shifted uncomfortably but made a sort of grunting noise that you took to mean “you’re welcome”. You smiled, moving up to press a sleepy kiss to his lips as further thanks, unable to stop smiling long enough for the kiss to develop into anything more. You pulled away, pleased at the hint of pink working its way across the Time Lord’s cheeks. You laid down again snuggling into him. Although you knew that you’d still have to talk about what you were feeling at some point, you were feeling much better thanks to your own personal mad man. You would deal with everything tomorrow, but for now, there was only this—you, and him, and the wide, enormous expanse of space and time. And the TARDIS, of course.

The music he’d turned on earlier drifted into your consciousness again, lulling you into a deep and dreamless sleep. You felt, very distinctly, the Doctor pulling you even closer as you drifted far away.


End file.
